


Trainspotting

by midnightecho



Category: Horrible Histories RPF
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightecho/pseuds/midnightecho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mat can't help but ask the attractive man on the bridge what he's doing there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The incessant buzzing ceased as Mat’s hand crashed down on top of the alarm clock. He immediately retreated back under the covers and was asleep again within seconds.

Two hours later, he hopped around his bedroom hurriedly pulling on various items of clothing, mumbling to himself that he really needed to get out of the habit of sleeping after his alarm went off. It wasn’t even like he’d gone to bed late the night before – Moulin Rouge had finished at 10 and he was sung in bed no less than half an hour later. Maybe he should just get an alarm clock that gave you a fresh mug of coffee when it went off. That would work a lot better than an irritating buzzing noise at getting him out of bed at 9am.

Mat’s guitar bumped into the wall as he flung it over his shoulder and pulled open his front door. It bumped against his back as he hurried down the several flights of steps that ran through the core of the block of flats Mat lived in. He wondered briefly when the lift was ever going to be fixed – it’d been out of order since he moved in three years ago. He barely even noticed it anymore; he’d grown accustomed to taking the stairs and even took joy in running down two at a time so it felt like he was flying, slowing on the rare occasion that someone else was walking around as early as him.

He jumped the final few steps and crashed through the double doors, sunlight blinding him the moment her stepped outside. He really was late this morning.

The bridge was stacked with traffic, so for once Mat was glad that he was travelling by foot. It felt extremely satisfying being able to jog past car after stationary car, knowing that none of them would reach the other end of the road any time soon. Mat never usually hit the late morning traffic, so he savoured the feeling of his pedestrian advantage.

He wasn’t the only pedestrian that morning, but he was the only mobile one; a tall man stood by the side of the bridge, facing out over the railway. Mat briefly registered, with a small smile, that the stranger was the probably one of the only ones he encountered that day who didn’t stop to watch in amusement as he ran past in a rush to get to his destination, but then continued without another thought towards the man, his mind far more focused on what Larry was going to say when he turned up late to practice yet again.

Little did he know, the man on the bridge turned once Mat was past and watched, not to laugh, but to admire the curled mop of hair bouncing up and down in the most adorable way he’d ever seen.

***

Mat’s day was uneventful. Larry gave the usual ramble about how if they didn’t turn up on time they were never going to make it in the music industry, but Mat barely paid any attention. His mind drifted between the lists of assignments he had at his second job in the Waterstones and what he was going to have for lunch at the end of their session, making his lyrics inspiration considerably limited. In the two hours they were together he came up with one halfway-decent riff, and that was only right near the end of the session.

He left Larry’s flat as quickly as he could get away with, managing to avoid Jim’s concerned questions. Mat felt bad for being so detached, but he just wasn’t in the mood.

As he ambled back towards his house, he noticed that the man from that morning was still stood on the bridge. Being in no rush, Mat slowed down to fully take in the peculiar stranger.

A camera hung around his neck, a large lens gripped loosely in his left hand and a notepad in his right. As the man’s head turned Mat also noticed he had a pen balanced behind his ear, brushing against his greying temples. He acknowledged Mat with a small nod and a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

Mat politely smiled back and continued on his way, not having the courage to ask the man why he was still standing there.


	2. Chapter 2

A small droplet of water landed on the canvas and trickled slowly down the colourful paint, merging tones as it went. As it was followed by more, Mat frowned at the sky, and then sighed as he began to pack up his painting equipment. It had been sunny when he went out into the park, but the clouds had grown darker the longer he sat there. Due to their changing state, Mat had left them out of the scene he was painting, concentrated on the foreground of tree-framed benches and hoped that the clouds would move on by the time he got onto the background. But it was not to be, and so he resolved to return tomorrow and fill in the background when it wasn’t raining.

Walking back to his flat in the increasingly heavy rain, canvas held close to his chest and hood pulled over his head, Mat exhaled heavily. Painting had relieved him of the stress he   
had had earlier; it always helped him to relax, and he was glad that art would be there whenever he needed it. It would never let him down.

***

Martha ran up to Mat as soon as he entered the book shop.

“There you are! Where have you been? I’ve had to cover for you for the past 10 minutes; Lawry isn’t impressed with you lateness the past few weeks. If you’re not careful he’ll drop you; we’ve had a load more job applications in the office now the students are back at uni. Anyway, let’s get going.”

Mat just started at his best friend for a moment. He’d only been late a few times recently; why hadn’t his boss mentioned this to him? He’d make more of an effort to get in on time if he’d known Lawry was unhappy with him. At least he knew now – Mat could always count on Martha.

“Mat? I’m sorry, I thought you ought to know. Better to hear it from me now than from Lewin later, eh? Come here,” she said pulling Mat into a quick hug.

Mat gave a small smile back and marched to the back of the store to start making his way through the pile of books that needed stacking that afternoon.

***

The impact on Mat of the news that he’d almost lost his job due to his unpunctual habits was surprising. He managed to only sleep in for half an hour the next day, and after a relatively successful full day at the bookstore (with a rare compliment from his boss about his productivity in comparison to the previous weeks) Mat decided to continue his fruitful activities and play around with some new riffs.

He sat on his bedroom windowsill, strumming casually to the tunes that floated around in his head. He was quite content there sat for an hour, noting down chords and lyrics and gazing out of the window at the city view provided by his fourth-floor location.

As Mat watched the city go about its afternoon business, he noticed with a small smile that there was a figure stood at the railway bridge like yesterday. From what Mat could tell, it was the same man as yesterday; he had the same professional camera and notepad gripped in his hands, and the longer he watched the more certain he became that it was the same man. And considering the productivity of his day so far, Mat felt that nothing could go wrong and decided to go down the road and talk to this stranger.

Mat reached the bridge a few minutes later. One thing he hadn’t paused to think about, however, was how he was going to start a conversation with this man.

He wandered along the footway at a slow amble, hands in his pockets, casually attempting to catch the stranger’s eye by looking out across the railway and then back at the man, wandering into his peripheral and inspecting his camera with an interested look. Eventually the man turned towards him with a slightly confused expression, but a smiling one nonetheless.

“Hi there.”

Mat was taken a little by surprise at the friendliness in the other man’s voice and drew his eyes away from the camera (which frankly looked like great fun to Mat) to looked up into a pair of stunning clear blue ones with corners crinkled in amusement. They twinkled from behind a large pair of glasses and Mat found himself transfixed by their beauty.

The man smiled at Mat’s apparent inability to form a response; it was a gorgeous, full smile that revealed a set of well-tended teeth and accentuated his soft pink lips. Mat blinked several times, mentally reprimanding himself. Pull yourself together, man, say something.

“Hey,” Mat managed, smiling in return.

“Can I help you with anything?” the other man prompted, as Mat seemed to have gotten stuck again on what to say next.

“Oh! Um, yeah,” Mat stuttered, averting his gaze to the railway track to mask the heat rising to his cheeks. “I was just wondering, you know... I mean, I’ve seen you standing here the past couple of days with the same camera and notepad and stuff – I’m not stalking you or anything, I was just wondering what the reason – i-if there is a reason – was?”

Now it was the other man’s turn to blush.

“I’m, ah... I’m trainspotting.”

Mat turned back to the stranger, eyebrows raised and an amused smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, that sounded sadder out loud than it ever did in my head.”

Mat laughed with the man. “Well that makes sense. I can’t say it’s ever been one of my hobbies, but then again I’ve never tried it. What do you actually do?”

“Note down serial numbers mostly; take photos as well – obviously – and spot as many different trains as you can. This week is National Trainspotting Week and there are forms for different counties so you have to try and spot specific ones within the week. You can upload photos to the website as well, compare with others in your area... What?”

Mat was grinning.

“Nothing... you’re just so enthusiastic. I never knew it was possible to be this enthusiastic about trains.”

The other man looked at his feet, a little embarrassed. “Well, it’s like any other hobby. There’s got to be something you’re this passionate about.”

“I guess. Music and art are my passions.”

“Of course, you’ve got your guitar... But there you go. It’s just a different pastime. You never know, you might find you like watching trains.”

Mat smiled at the fact that this man had remembered he had a guitar. “There’s a first time for everything. Mind if I join you then?”

“Be my guest,” the trainspotter smiled, extending a hand. “I’m Ben, by the way.”

“Mat,” replied Mat, shaking Ben’s hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Mat didn’t know whether he genuinely liked trainspotting or if he just enjoyed it because of the mysterious Ben, but he had a really good afternoon. Admittedly they didn’t spend much time looking at trains; more often they were chatting about their other interests and pastimes. It turned out Ben was into music as well – although not the kind that Mat played. Ben listened to classical, whereas Mat played acoustic mostly, though the band had taken a slightly more punk rock turn recently. It was mostly due to the influence of Simon and his heavier music taste, but Mat found, quite unexpectedly, that he liked it.

Another interest they shared was books. Mat was surrounded by them most days due to his job but he loved every now and then to sit down and read for an hour or so. Listening to Ben talk about the type of books he read made Mat realise that he read far too much teen fiction for a man of his age.

On the occasion that a train did come past Ben’s face lit up with anticipation, his camera at his eye almost immediately as he got into position for the perfect photo, and he snapped away until the train was right under them. Then he rushed over to the other side of the bridge to watch it rattle off into the distance, a content smile softening his strong features.

“So how much time does trainspotting actually take up? I mean, most of it is waiting so doesn’t it take up a good chunk of your time?” Mat asked, leaning over the bridge barrier and inspecting the crossing tracks beneath him.

“I don’t usually do it particularly frequently; it’s normally a weekend treat. But this week is different – there are special trains out on the tracks just for Trainspotting Week so every year I indulge myself to a week off work for it.”

“What do you do for work?” Mat inquired, turning towards Ben, who was still gazing into the distance after the last train.

“I’m a writer. Not a particularly successful one, admittedly, but I enjoy it,” Ben replied, smiling back at Mat. “I’ve been working on some comedy recently, but I usually write fiction.”

“Will I have read any of your work?” Mat asked.

“Probably not. I don’t publish it under my full name.”

“Oh? What do you publish it under, then?”

“My surname.”

“Which is?” Mat was determined to get it out of Ben.

“Willbond. Only I split it in two for publishing.”

“Ingenious.”

“Thank you. Hey, what are you doing?”

Mat had pulled his phone out and was already on his browser, searching for Will Bond books on Amazon. “Nothing,” Mat grinned.

“Are- are you searching for my books?!”

“Maybe...”

“Give me that!”

Mat held his phone out over the tracks, giggling at Ben’s exasperated expression, which soon turned into one of determination. He lurched forwards and grabbed Mat around his middle, pulling him away from the barrier and pinning him down on the pavement. He grabbed the hone and held it up in the air victoriously, cheering.

What he didn’t anticipate was Mat’s counter-attack. He leaped at the opportunity to tickle Ben’s unguarded tummy, causing him to crumple on the pavement next to him in a breathless fit of giggles. Mat retrieved his phone and stood up again, sticking his tongue out at the grown man rolling on the ground.

Ben struggled to his feet, panting slightly. “Fine. Read my books if you want. But only if I can listen to your music.”

Mat shook his head resignedly. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr Willbond. But okay, when we get a gig I shall notify you immediately. I can’t promise you’ll like our style, but if that is what you wish, it shall be done.”

“Done,” Ben replied, extending a hand to seal the deal. Mat shook it heartily, but seemed to forget to let go. Ben gave him an odd look, but continued to shake his hand nonetheless. They continued for a moment more, before both broke into laughter again. Mat reluctantly drew his hand away from the older man’s, but their eyes never broke contact.

Ben took a deep breath, as though he were about to say something, and for a fleeting moment Mat’s heart leapt at the thought that Ben was about to voice what Mat had been feeling more and more all afternoon; an affection for the other man, something stronger than friendship...

A second later, however, his hope flickered as Ben turned back towards the railway track, letting out his breath and biting his bottom lip. Mat joined him, shoulder to shoulder on the barrier, marvelling at the stunning, richly coloured sunset which had settled over the horizon.

“I’d... better be off now. Dinner to cook and all that,” Ben said casually.

Mat briefly considered asking if Ben wanted to have dinner with him, but decided not to on the basis that he wouldn’t have the courage to ask such a question on the first day of meeting this man.

“Ah, of course, me too,” Mat managed to get out.

Ben straightened up and turned to face Mat, who instantly became aware of how close their bodies were. He felt his heart rate increase, colour rise to his cheeks as he looked into   
Ben’s shimmering eyes.

“See you around, Mat,” he smiled.

“Yeah. See you around.”

And with that, Ben picked up his notepad and started down the road in the opposite direction to Mat, but not without one final glance back.

“Wait! How will I find you again?” Mat yelled before Ben disappeared round the bend. Wow, that sounded cheesy. Luckily, Ben took it with a pinch of salt.

“Look for my train in the East!” he joked, waving a hand dramatically before vanishing behind the row of bushes that lined the road.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Mat woke up before his alarm went off, shocking even himself. Until then he never realised how much he could do in the morning; he had time to shower, wash up from last night’s dinner and write down a few more lyrics that were floating around in his head. He even had time for breakfast, which was a rarity these days, so he decided to treat himself to three Weetabix and two slices of Nutella-covered toast. He sat smiling to himself as he munched, recalling the events of yesterday evening. By the time he was out the door he was feeling more awake and happy than he had in the past few weeks.

“Mat, you’re... you’re early,” Larry exclaimed as he opened his flat door to a lively-looking Mat at 9:50am. Mat only grinned, pulling his guitar off his back and stepping inside. 

Today he felt like he could conquer the world.

Simon and Jim arrived 15 minutes later, both equally taken aback at Mat’s punctuality. They got straight to practising their newer tracks, with alterations and input from each member. Simon presented various heavy baselines and Mat joined in with some of the new riffs from yesterday, giving them several strong bases for new songs. It was the most successful session they’d had in weeks.

Larry was overjoyed at their progress. He had a strong feeling it had something to do with Mat’s sudden attitude change; the other two had definitely noticed it as well.

“Something’s going on,” he said to Jim and Simon in the kitchen when they grabbed some snacks in their break. “Mat hasn’t been this happy in ages. I thought he was getting worse; only two day ago he was the worst I’d seen him, and now he’s completely turned around.”

“Shall we ask him what happened?” Jim mused.

Simon had a different idea. “I think we should see how long it lasts. He might be back to his previous attitude tomorrow. It might just be for attention.”

“Mat’s not like that,” Jim defended. “He tends to tell people things if he wants them to know.”

“Okay, if he’s still like this at the start of next week and hasn’t told us why he’s so happy, we’ll ask him,” Larry finalised.

“Right.”

“Agreed.”

***

Mat skipped all the way from practice to the railway bridge. Ben grinned at him as he approached, putting down his notepad to accept Mat’s spontaneous hug. Neither man had planned on the embrace, but equally neither seemed to mind; apparently they had already reached that stage of friendship.

“Hey there, happy thing,” Ben chuckled, releasing Mat, who smiled up at him. 

“Hi,” Mat replied, turning and looking out eagerly over the tracks. “What special trains have we got today?”

Ben consulted the schedule in his notebook. “Ah, we have the No 925 Cheltenham steam train at 14:47, which hasn’t been on the tracks for 50 years.”

“50 years? Wow. Any others before that one?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll have to dash without seeing any then. I’ve only got a half hour before I need to head off to work, but I can hang around til then if you want.” Mat smiled sweetly at the older man, who smiled back.

“That’d be great; I could do with some company. Yesterday was a lot more interesting once you arrived, I must admit... Not- not that there’s anything uninteresting about the trains, but it’s just... a lot more fun with another person...” Ben trailed off.

Mat smiled to himself, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Well I’m glad you had fun. I’d be happy to do it every evening if it was with you.”

Ben blushed. “We have every evening this week...” Ben caught Mat’s eye and held his gaze, both men trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

“Sounds great,” Mat said, biting his lip.

“Good,” Ben said, voice lowered.

Mat could have sworn that Ben had inched his face closer to his own, but he would never know for certain as at that moment a bicycle bell rang clear right behind Ben. He had to jump against the bridge barrier to avoid the hurtling cyclist, almost squashing Mat in the process. He cursed at the cyclist as he pedalled round the corner, surprising Mat with the unnatural sound of a cuss in his posh accent.

“Are you okay, Mat?” Ben asked, eyes deeply concerned for his companion.

“Yeah I’m fine, are you?”

“Yeah.”

The two men took a couple of breaths, shocked from the sudden near-collision.

“What were we saying?” Mat asked, remembering full well what they were talking about moments before.

“Ah... every evening this week,” Ben prompted, turning back to the tracks.

“Oh yes,” Mat said. An awkward silence followed, both men avoiding the other’s eyes. Maybe Mat hadn’t imagined Ben leaning in... But he decided not to pursue the notion. He didn’t want to risk ruining a friendship he’d only just discovered.

He cleared his throat to break the tension. “Well I should get going... Got some things to finish up at home, you know... See you later?”

Ben turned at last to face Mat again. “Yeah, sure. See you later.” He smiled warmly at Mat, but didn’t initiate a farewell gesture of any sort.

Mat only smiled back, not wanting to increase the uncomfortable atmosphere that would had settled with another hug. He hitched his guitar up onto his shoulder fully and made his way down the road.

Ben turned to the railway once Mat had disappeared, mentally cursing. Bloody cockblock cyclist.


	5. Chapter 5

Mat dashed up the stairs to his flat, fingers crossed. It took him a few seconds to get the key into the lock as his hands were shaky and inaccurate in his hurry. The door swung wide, crashing into the wall and revealing a small package on the doormat. A huge grin spread across Mat’s face as he grabbed the parcel, pulled the door closed and stumbled back down the stairs while ripping at the wrappings.

He arrived at the bridge minutes later, having disposed of the packaging, and now carrying only a thick paperback book entitled Flutter. He inspected the blurb as he approached Ben for the second time that day.

“Oh, you didn’t,” Ben groaned, hanging his head.

“Oh I did. It arrived while I was out,” Mat grinned at Ben, opening the book to the first page and reading aloud. “‘I have always found something unimaginably beautiful about butterflies. The delicately crafted wings, the intricate and unique patterns that decorate them, their sturdiness and determined nature despite their initial appearance. They never fail to capture my attention whenever our paths cross...’”

Mat’s voice trailed off as his eyes continued down the page, suddenly transfixed by the prologue of Ben’s book. He was vaguely aware of Ben’s eyes on him, but within moments he was fully immersed in the land of stories. Characters took formation in his mind, scenery developed effortlessly and seamlessly. He didn’t know how long he stood leant against the barrier, flipping pages, smiling, laughing, ooh-ing and aah-ing as the first few chapters played to his imagination.

Eventually Mat broke away from the story land and looked up at Ben, who had been stood reading over his shoulder. He smiled shyly at the brown-haired man, suddenly extremely worried about what his new friend thought of his work. He’d never been particularly concerned about reactions to his books, but now it felt like the most important thing in the world.

Mat’s face broke into an awed and disbelieving smile.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Ben, this story is amazing.”

Ben let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it. You know, of all the books I’ve written, you chose to buy the one that was most personal to me.”

“Really?” Mat said, facing Ben fully. “How so?”

“A large quantity of the dilemmas and decisions Max meets throughout the story happened to me. The section you just finished – the university party – that actually happened. I’m serious,” he added at Mat’s dubious expression.

“But that entire party’s events revolved around the fact that Max was...” Mat searched Ben’s eyes, almost not believing the conclusion he was coming to could be true in reality. His eyes widened. “You’re not.”

Ben nodded, keeping eye contact with Mat so he knew he was telling the truth. “Yup. I’m gay.”

Mat snapped his gaping mouth shut. “So am–”

Mat never finished his sentence as Ben pulled him forward by his collar, pressing his soft lips hard against Mat’s and tangling his fingers into the younger man’s already messy hair. A whimper escaped Mat’s lips as he submitted immediately to the passionate contact, wrapping his arms around Ben’s strong shoulders and moving his mouth to deepen the kiss.

They eventually broke apart for want of oxygen, their heavy breath condensing in the cool night air. Their eyes gazed deeply into one another’s and Mat felt like he was seeing right into Ben’s soul; his strong affection for this man he had only met the other day, his relief in being able to share his sexuality with someone, his complete and utter comfort in the current situation.

“Wow,” Mat repeated for the third time that day.


	6. Chapter 6

Larry hurried back into his living room, where the rest of the band sat, with a huge grin on his face. They looked at him expectantly as he took a deep breath.

“Great news, guys,” he started. “I’ve got us a gig.”

“Woah!”

“Seriously?!”

“Laz, you’re the man!”

“Yes, seriously.” His smile broadened at the reaction. “It’s this Saturday at that new little bar down the road, and we’ve got a thirty minute slot, so we can get in eight or nine songs. What do we wanna play?”

“Wait, Saturday? That’s in two days!” Simon complained.

“Yeah, is there a problem with that?”

“I have a very busy social life, you know. I could’ve had a very important appointment. There are people who’d pay for my time.”

“Simon. Are you doing anything on Saturday?”

He paused. The others looked at him, amused.

“...No.”

“There. Everything’s fine then.”

***

Mat ran to the bridge once they had run twice through the playlist they ended up settling on. They sounded pretty good despite the fact that they hadn’t rehearsed their older songs in a few weeks.

“Ben Ben Ben Ben Ben!”

Mat jumped onto his friend before he had the chance to turn around. He caught Mat’s legs around his waist and hoisted him properly onto his back.

“Hey, you’re full of energy today,” Ben chuckled.

“That’s because,” Mat said into Ben’s ear, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders and chest, “my band have got a gig.”

“Wow, nice!”

“I know!” Mat slipped off Ben’s back and hugged him properly.

“So when’s the gig?”

“Saturday,” Mat grinned. “Why?”

“You have to uphold your end of the deal; you’ve read my work, I get to listen to your music,” Ben grinned mischievously.

“Oh yeah... Almost forgot about that,” Mat cringed. “It’s at that new bar on the main road, 7-7:30 pm. We’re not great, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I bet you’re brilliant,” Ben replied, tilting Mat’s face up to gaze into his eyes.

Mat blushed ferociously and closed the gap between their lips, briefly pressing softly into a moment of bliss before he hurried off to work for the afternoon.

***

“Saturday?! Wow, that was quick,” Martha gasped.

“Yeah, I know. You up for it? You haven’t seen Jim or Larry in a while, they keep asking when I’m having another party and I have a feeling it’s because you’re always there.”  
Martha flushed lightly and turned to pick up the pile of books she had relinquished to talk to her friend. “Yeah, sure, I’m up for it.”

“Great,” Mat grinned, rushing to the back of the store.

“Hey Mat,” Martha called after him. He turned mid-pace and jogged back to her. “Something happened recently? You seem very happy.”

“Oh thanks,” Mat said with a depreciative look.

“I didn’t mean it like that – you know you haven’t been the liveliest person the past few weeks, but today you’re full of it. Something’s going on, and I’m going to get it out of you,” she grinned.

Mat sighed. “Fine. I may as well tell you now; you’ll get me to confess eventually anyway.”

“Exactly.”

Mat bit his lip. “There’s a guy.”

Martha’s eyes widened, her mouth formed an ‘o’ then quickly developed into a wide grin. “Who is it? How did you meet him? How old is he? What’s he like?”

Mat held his hands up defensively to the onslaught of questions.

“He’s lovely; I dunno how old he is exactly, older than me by a few years I reckon.”

Martha raised her eyebrows.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. He’s gorgeous and he’s called Ben Willbond; he’s a writer. And we met on the railway bridge.”

Martha looked confused. “On the railway bridge? That’s an odd place to meet someone...” Her face suddenly dropped. “He wasn’t going to... you know... jump, was he?”

“What? Oh, God no! No no no, he’s not like that. He’s trainsopts.”

Martha’s face relaxed. “Oh, good. Well, I say good; I always thought trainspotting must be one of the most useless hobbies in the world. No offence to Ben or anything,” she added.

“No, so did I. But it’s actually relatively interesting. Or rather it is when you’ve got someone as enthusiastic as him to tell you all about each train in an adorably excited voice.”  
Martha clicked her fingers in Mat’s face, snapping his focus away from the middle distance and back to her.

“Sorry. You’ll have to meet him. Wait, you will meet him. He’s coming to the gig.”

“Great! I look forward to... What?”

Mat eyes had grown wide at something over Martha’s shoulder. He scrambled to pick up a small pile of books which lay on the floor, trying to look like he was doing something.

“Lawry,” he hissed.

“Shit, see you later,” Martha mumbled and hurried off in the opposite direction.


	7. Chapter 7

Mat thanked the guy over the counter as he handed him his large portion of chips. He dug into them as he walked out of the shop and down the familiar route to the railway bridge.

“I brought dinner,” he said to Ben as he approached. Ben rubbed his hands together in the gathering dark and grabbed a handful of the warm salty chips, cursing as they scalded his frozen hands.

“Careful, they’re hot,” Mat teased, grinning at the man before him.

“How was work?” Ben steered away from the subject of his carelessness.

“Same old, same old. Had a chat with my friend Martha; she’s coming to the gig, and she’s excited to meet you.”

“Really? What have you told her about me?”

Mat shuffled closer to Ben and gazed up at him. “That you’re mature and strong, a real gentleman, extremely talented at what you do... Oh, and that you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

Ben grinned back at Mat, leaning down and pecking him gently on the lips. He could taste the saltiness of the chips on the younger man’s mouth.

“Any interesting trains today?” It had become habit for Mat to ask about the trains, even though none of them really wanted to talk about them when the other was around.

“Not really,” Ben replied. “The best are on the last day, to be honest.”

Mat hesitated before saying, “In that case, do you want to, um... come to my flat for a bit? It’s freezing out here, and we can reheat out chips in the microwave.” He glanced cautiously up at Ben, waiting for an answer.

The older man was suppressing a grin. He met Mat’s gaze with twinkling eyes. “Sure.”

They reached Mat’s place minutes later and Ben sighed happily as the warmth from the indoors enveloped him in a welcoming cocoon of comfort. Mat’s flat may not have been the most luxurious place in the world, but at least it had central heating.

He shrugged his coat off as he stepped into the living room. Mat’s guitar was propped casually against one end of the sofa and sheets of paper lay scattered across a coffee table. They appeared to be covered in random scribbles, but as Ben picked on up and sat down to examine it he realised it was hastily written words. Lyrics, to be more exact. They were written all over the page in seemingly random places, crossed though numerous times and re-written with small letters floating around each sentence like satellites. Ben sat back into the comfortable seat and soon became engrossed with each and every scrawl, trying to decipher the alterations each phrase went through, linking those close together in his mind in an attempt to form rhymes, verses, tunes. He marvelled at how these jottings, which at a glance would make no sense, could so easily form a beautiful stream of words and melodies.

“That’s one of my favourite.”

Ben had been so enchanted with the notes in his hand that he was completely oblivious to Mat’s presence in the doorway until he spoke. He joined Ben on the sofa, reheated chips in hand, reading the notes over Ben’s shoulder. Moments later, he gave a small gasp and grabbed the sheet out of Ben’s hand, swiped a pencil from the table and scribbled another alteration in an already over-crowded corner of the page. He paused to scan the paper once more, and then wrote around another cluster of words, making tiny adjustments to words and letters. Ben watched in amazement, awed that someone’s brain could work so freely and productively without any apparent effort. He never found his writing this easy even when a brainwave hit him.

Mat gave another sudden “Ooh!” and flipped the paper over, angling away from Ben slightly so that his body blocked the other man’s vision of the page. Ben sat back and picked up the chips, which Mat had abandoned on the cushion, and decided that if Mat wanted privacy when writing his lyrics he should give it to him.

Mat eventually straightened out of his hunched position over the coffee table and began to gather the various papers from its surface into a pile. He flopped back next to Ben and took a couple of chips.

“Do you want a drink or anything?” he asked.

“A tea would be great, thanks.”

Mat grinned.

“What?”

“I knew you were a tea person.”

And with that Mat stood up and half-skipped from the room.

Ben sat for a moment, a little confused by the comment, and was about to follow Mat when his eyes landed once more on the lyric notes. Curiosity got the better of him and he leaned across the table to look at the page Mat had written so enthusiastically on. He turned the sheet over and saw that it was blank save two lines written carefully in the middle:

 

Is there a world without the love of you?  
Don’t let me be alone I beg of you.

 

Ben stared at the words for a moment, letting them sink in, pondering their origin and meaning as a true writer always does, before replacing the paper and going off to find Mat   
again.

***

Mat was stood stirring drinks in the kitchen with his back to the door when Ben entered.

“Tea’s ready,” he said over his shoulder when he heard the footsteps. He took a sip of his coffee and smiled as the long-anticipated warm liquid trickled down his throat and warmed his insides. What he didn’t anticipate was the hands that encircled his waist moments later, the warm breath on his neck and the heat that flooded his cheeks.

“Tea can wait.” The low voice rumbled in his ears, making the hairs on his neck stand on end. Ben’s warm lips pressed softly into his skin, caressing his slender neck and earlobe making Mat’s eyelids flutter closed and heart rate rocket. He twisted around in Ben’s arms to face him and planted a hurried kiss on his lips, pulling him closer and running his fingers through his silvering hair.

Mat felt his hips bump against the kitchen counter as they moved backwards and was suddenly extremely aware of the mug behind him. He quickly turned and moved the hot steaming drinks down the counter before perching on the edge and pulling Ben back towards him, wrapping his legs around his waist and leaning down slightly to crush their lips together again.

Ben moved back to Mat’s neck, pausing over his pulsing artery and sucking hard causing Mat to moan above him. He ran his hands up Mat’s chest and set to work swiftly unbuttoning his chequered shirt. He felt Mat shiver underneath him as his hands roamed across his bare chest and back.

“Are you cold?” Ben whispered, lips brushing Mat’s ear. Mat shivered again at the feeling of Ben’s breath. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Without warning, Ben scooped up Mat’s legs in one arm and carried Mat out of the kitchen and into the adjacent bedroom, slamming the door shut with his foot.


	8. Chapter 8

The wailing of Mat’s alarm roused him once more, but as he turned to smash his hand down on the snooze button he found, to his utmost confusion, that his path was blocked.  
Mat peeled his tired eyes open to confront his unusual situation and was met by a close view of a peacefully sleeping Ben Willbond.

Oh yeah, that’s what happened, Mat thought happily as the events of the previous night came flooding back to him. He smiled to himself and was about to settle into the wondrous land of sleep, no longer caring about the alarm, when the man next to him stirred into consciousness. He too smiled contentedly at the sight of his companion.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Mat mumbled in greeting.

“Morning gorgeous,” Ben replied, flicking the still-sounding alarm off and pulling Mat into a warm embrace, connecting their lips easily amidst the tangle of blankets and messy hair.

“Mmm,” Mat said as he pulled out of the kiss. “That might just be a better thing to wake up to than coffee.”

Ben simply raised his eyebrows at him and pursued to plant heated kisses along Mat’s neck and jaw.

 

The pair eventually stumbled out of bed an hour later, meaning that Mat only had time for a coffee before he set off rather than the full breakfast he had enjoyed the day before. But in all honesty, Mat didn’t care about breakfast if he had Ben in the flat.

As the kettle boiled, Ben grabbed Mat and pulled him close, suddenly enveloping him in a lustful and yearning kiss whilst tangling his fingers in his thick curly locks. Mat moaned at the sudden intimacy, melting into the embrace, but forced himself to pull away a moment later before he got too into it.

“As much as I regret it, Mr Willbond, I have work to attend and you have trains to spot. But I’m free this afternoon if that suits you,” Mat said, looking up at Ben through his eyelashes.

“It definitely does,” Ben replied, swiftly placing a final kiss on Mat’s lips before turning to gather his belongings.

As he made his way back to the bedroom where he had left his mobile, Ben noticed with a smile that Flutter lay open near the end atop Mat’s chest of drawers. He smiled to himself as he rejoined Mat, who stood gulping his steaming coffee in a hurry to leave.

“You’ve almost finished my book,” Ben said quietly, still touched at the fact that Mat appreciated his work so much.

“Yeah, I was going to finish it last night, but became... otherwise engaged,” Mat replied, walking over and kissing Ben gently. “And I’ve also ordered the rest of yours works...”

Ben raised his eyebrows in further surprise. “...Wow.”

Mat blushed at the ground, mumbling, “Anyway, we should be going...”

Ben gazed after Mat and followed him over to the door, speechless.

 

Mat made his way into Waterstones with a distinct glow.

“What have you been up to?” Martha scrutinised him, catching on as soon as he walked through the door.

“Hmm?” Mat had barely heard his friend; his mind was somewhereelse entirely.

Martha just shook her head, smiling. “Was he good?”

“Martha!” Mat exclaimed, partly out of incredulity that she would say something like that in such a public place and partly because he was amazed she’d figured it out so quickly.

“What? I’m right, aren’t I?” she grinned.

When Mat flushed a deep red, she punched him playfully on the arm. “Knew it! So, how was he?” she pushed.

Mat gave her a slightly exasperated look, but mumbled, “Bloody amazing.”

Martha grinned again, putting her arm around Mat’s shoulders and saying into his ear “I’m so proud of you” in a mock-condescending tone. Mat sighed but marched further into the shop with his head held high nonetheless.


	9. Chapter 9

Mat made his excuses hurriedly and unconvincingly. The band had been having a practice in preparation for Saturday, but Mat wasn’t as focused as he had been the rest of the week. He could only think of Ben and what he was going to do to him when they got to Mat’s that evening. So he left early, promising that he’d practice with them all day tomorrow to make up for it, and ran for the familiar bridge.

He didn’t even stop running when he reached Ben, which shocked the older man a little as his hand was grabbed and he was pulled off in the direction of Mat’s flat.

The pair dashed through the streets, not giving much care to their baggage – Mat’s guitar may look like it had been it an earthquake from all the movement, and Ben’s camera threatened to come unclipped from the strap at the pace they were going.

They reached the block in record time, thundered up the stairs past several groups of people who gave them looks ranging from disgruntled disapproval to amused knowing. But the pair cared for none of them. All they could focus on was each other, and when they fell onto Mat’s bed, free of their effects, it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began.

Ben knelt over Mat and began unbuttoning his shirt with speedy expertise, kissing every inch of skin in sight.

“Ben,” Mat breathed. Ben lifted his head from Mat’s neck and looked him in the eye, smirking seductively. Mat bit back a moan. “I missed you today.”

Ben’s grin widened. “I missed you more,” he said, leaning down and connecting their lips in a heated kiss, running a hand up into Mat’s unruly hair. Mat wrapped his legs around   
Ben’s waist, pulling him closer, and slipped his tongue into Ben’s mouth, tasting tea and digestive biscuits.

Ben moaned and pulled Mat closer still, feeling his bare torso with hungry hands. Mat may be skinny, but he was also strong and Ben revelled in the feeling of Mat’s tensing muscles wherever his hands went. The sensation sent pleasant shivers through Ben’s body.

But he needed more. He released any restraint he was still exercising and unzipped Mat’s jeans, pulling them off his legs with incredible ease, then slipped his hand into Mat’s underwear without a moment of hesitation.

“Fuck, Ben,” Mat gasped at the sudden intense contact, arching his back. His breathing quickened as Ben began to move his hand, slowly at first so that Mat writhed with want. He moved his hips in time with Ben’s hand encouraging to increase his speed. As his movements became one with Mat’s, Ben kissed up Mat’s torso to the base of his neck, nipping at his collarbone and teasing desperate whimpers from Mat’s lips.

Mat trailed his hands down Ben’s torso, keen to return the favour and make the older man understand how he made him feel, but realised that through some slip of concentration Ben was still fully dressed. He exhaled shortly and proceeded to fumble at Ben’s collar with passion-trembling fingers, pulling at the buttons in desperate attempts to undo them and get the other man as exposed as he was. He failed spectacularly.

Ben laughed softly into Mat’s hair and removed his own shirt effortlessly, making Mat groan at the loss of contact, then unbuckled his belt, leaving something for Mat to do. The younger man hurried to pull off Ben’s trousers, then straddled his lap and pulled him into a fiery kiss. Ben gasped at Mat’s sudden dominance, feeling the blood surging downwards. He gave a suppressed moan when Mat felt his erection press into him and began to grind his hips against him, causing both men to pant with need.

“Ben... please...” Mat managed.

Ben reacted instantly, placing Mat on his front and ripping off his underwear. Mat buried his face in the pillows, desperately trying to keep his breathing at a reasonable pace (which was, of course, impossible) as he felt Ben’s hand slide teasingly up the back of his thigh towards his entrance.


End file.
